Vampy: I don't own anything from Black Butler. Thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed Lover's Morgue.


Undertaker stood with his head bowed over his simple sink, staring at the brass knobs without really seeing them. Derrick Morningstar. The name that had haunted him for so long, the name that left a bad taste in his mouth every time it passed his lips, the name that caused phantom pain to flare up in his scars each time he thought of it. Derrick Morningstar.

The silver haired man lifted his gaze to the mirror in front of him. His reflection looked back at him with eyes that held the wisdom of more years than he cared to count. His scars stood out jarringly against his pale skin. Undertaker scowled at his reflection in the mirror, his grip tightening on the counter as he fought the urge to smash his fist into the reflective glass.

Back in the day, Derrick had done what he could to ruin Undertaker's life and unfortunately he was successful. The bastard continued to cause the retired reaper nothing but pain, time and time again. Undertaker had lived with nothing but loneliness and self-pity as his companions for at least a century, ever since Claudia. . . He pushed the thought away. He had Raven now.

Ice cold fear flooded Undertaker's veins, freezing him in place as he continued to stare at his reflection. Raven. What if Derrick knew about her? Undertaker had felt the presence of more than one Shinigami keeping an eye on his shop. If they were reporting to the Council. . . He didn't want to think about what might happen to Raven if Derrick found out that Undertaker was starting to have feelings for her.

There's only one option then, old chap. Mortis whispered in his mind. You have to send her away. Send her to Dispatch.

Undertaker's heart sank even as he shook his head in denial of Mortis' logic. He didn't want to make her leave, not when she had brought him so much happiness within the short time they had been together. But his scythe was right. For her safety, he would have to send her away.


Raven busied herself in the kitchen to distract herself from thoughts of Undertaker's naked body. She walked over to the icebox and looked inside. Hmmm. . . Let's see, we have some eggs, fruit, milk, a roll of sausage. . .

She instantly slammed the cover back on the icebox when the sight of the sausage made her think of a certain male body part. "Oh no, there is nothing here for me to use to make a meal. What ever shall I do?"

"There's nothing in the icebox? I just went grocery shopping two days ago! How much do you eat?!" Undertaker's voice came from the doorway.

Raven whirled around, relieved to see that her host was dressed. "Oh, um, I mean, there is food in there. Just nothing that sounds good to me right now. . . Heh heh. . . Heh. . ." Her voice trailed off awkwardly and the pair stood staring at each other in silence for a few very uncomfortable minutes.

Undertaker cleared his throat to prepare himself for bringing up the topic of Raven leaving his home. He carefully avoided her eyes as he spoke. "I've been thinking that it might be better if you went to Dispatch after all."

It felt like someone had just stabbed her heart with a knife. "What?"

"I'm not quite right in the head, you see, and I don't think-"

"That's a load of rotten corpses and you know it."

Undertaker tried not to smile at her phrasing. He coughed into his hand. "Well, yes. I have been doing better lately. But I still think that it would be better if you went to Dispatch."

Raven looked him in the eye. "Is this because you kissed me last night?"

Undertaker flushed but didn't say anything, which was all the answer Raven needed.

She walked towards him, causing the legendary reaper to back away until he hit the wall. The black haired girl stood up on her tip toes and pushed her face so close to his that her lips could almost brush against the mortician's.

"When I'm near you, I have difficult thinking about anything but how close you are to me; that if I just reach out my hand, I can touch you." She emphasized this by running her hand over his chest. Part of her wondered where this sudden bout of daring came from, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to stay with the man she had started to care for deeply.

Undertaker shivered at her touch and swallowed thickly. "Raven, this isn't-"

"This isn't what you've been thinking about for who knows how long?" She interrupted him again. "Is that why you want me to leave? Because you're afraid of having romantic feelings towards me? I know that you loved someone before. I see it in the way your fingers curl around one of those little lockets on your belt. Do you feel like you're betraying her by having feelings for me? After all this time of being a lonely old man with only corpses and coffins for company, have you forgotten how to feel anything other than the bitterness that I see in your eyes each time you look in the mirror?"

That struck a nerve. Undertaker straightened to his full height, his eyes glinting dangerously as he penetrated her with a look that made her blood run cold . "Darlin', you know nothing about who I am or what my life has been like. You've barely scratched the surface. You're just a little girl who died before her life even started. "

Raven recoiled from him, hurt flashing across her face an instant before she ran out of the room. Undertaker heard the bell above his shop door clang wildly to alert him to the fact that Raven had left.

Guilt stabbed at his heart as he realized what he'd just done. Undertaker sank down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "I really am a bitter old man."


Raven ran as fast as her feet could carry her, ignoring the rain that pelted against her skin like mini icicles. Tears mixed with the rain water on her cheeks and her breath came out in ragged sobs. She didn't even notice that she was heading in the direction of the White Chapel district.

She didn't notice anything about the world around her until she ran into the person she

had died to get away from. Her father, Richard Stonewall

At first he didn't seem to recognize her, but as he glared at her with alcohol glazed eyes, recognition lit a fire within them. "Well well, the bitch isn't dead. I didn't think ye would survive this long. You been selling off yer flesh to make a livin', girlie? Betcher a whore just like yer mother."

Richard leaned closer to her and Raven could smell the liquor on his breath even as the slurred words suddenly became sharp and clear. "Did I ever tell you that I caught Maria fucking another man? I suppose not since it was nine months before you were born."

Raven's eyes went wide behind the corrective lenses she wore as the implications of what he said clicked. "You're not my father."

"No," Richard sneered before taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. "I'm not. Now get out of my sight."

The young woman left without complaint, relieved that Richard hadn't forced her back with him. Her thoughts were spinning in circles that seemed to never end. But the one thought that stood out the most was:

What on earth is that strange roaring sound?